


Rickon's Refuge

by vivilove



Series: Rickon's Tales [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: All my traumatized Stark babies need love, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Bad Dreams, F/M, I was having a lot of feelings about touch starved Starklings, Married Jonsa, POV Rickon Stark, Rickon Stark Lives, We're calling it post book canon, until grrm says otherwise Rickon lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: On those nights, Rickon feels like a child of eight, not a man grown. On those nights, he seeks out Sansa, a tolerable replacement for the mother he lost, the one he barely remembers now, though that is not in his conscious thoughts.She lets him lie in her bed.  She will stroke his hair softly and sing.  He's never told her but he likes that.  It makes him feel safe and loved and like he still has a mother who isn't a faded memory.“Rickon? What are you doing in here?”He scowls at the deep voice even though he loves him.“What areyoudoing in here?!” he asks sharply in reply to Jon’s question, the petulance plain in his tone.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Rickon's Tales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063277
Comments: 124
Kudos: 560





	Rickon's Refuge

Sansa may be queen now but she says she was his big sister first. Big sisters can be annoying. She’s always trying to coddle him, behaves as if she’s Mother more than she realizes. She looks like Mother in a way except Rickon doesn’t remember Mother’s face so well anymore. He was only three when he last saw her, or Father, or Robb.

Sansa isn’t his mother and he isn’t the little boy she remembers. He’s eight, nearly a man grown.

But some nights he wakes from frightful dreams where Winterfell burns and people he’d once known and loved scream. Some nights he dreams of dragon fire. Some nights it's blue eyes and ice so cold it burns. Some nights the doves fly away as the sword comes swishing down.

On those nights, Rickon feels like a child of eight, not a man grown. On those nights, he seeks out his big sister Sansa, a tolerable replacement for the mother he lost, the one he barely remembers now, though that is not in his conscious thoughts. 

On those nights, she lets him lie in her bed. She will stroke his hair softly and sing. He's never told her but he likes that. It makes him feel safe and loved and like he still has a mother who isn't a faded memory. 

He needs Sansa so much those nights even though his childish pride doesn't want to admit that he does. She promises not to leave him like everyone else did. 

To be fair though, someone else has returned to Winterfell after Rickon came home and has promised not to leave again. He even swore a vow to Sansa when he returned from farther north. 

“Rickon? What are you doing in here?”

He scowls at the deep voice even though he loves him.

Jon doesn’t coddle him, not the way Sansa does. He’s teaching him to use sword and shield though he still makes him use a wooden sword. Jon is the best swordsman in all the North, maybe all of Westeros some say. It is right that he is here to protect Sansa and teach Rickon. This is his home, too. 

They share stories of the Free Folk sometimes. It helps Rickon remember Osha and he thinks Jon had friends among them, too. Jon makes him laugh and Rickon can make him laugh even when there are times it seems all the laughter has left Jon for good. Secretly, he reminds Rickon of Father sometimes, the same way Sansa reminds him of Mother.

But tonight…

“What are _you_ doing in here?!” he asks sharply in reply to Jon’s question, the petulance plain in his tone.

These are Sansa’s chambers, once their lady mother’s rooms. This is Rickon’s refuge from bad dreams but he doesn’t want Jon to know about that.

“I’m…”

“He’s my husband now, Rickon,” Sansa says, coming out of their shared solar in her night shift and robe with her long hair loose and hanging in waves.

Rickon stares at her blankly. Yes, he was there in the godswood when they said the words before the heart tree two moons ago but somehow he hadn’t considered that they might sleep in the same room.

When they’d told him how they had planned to marry for political reasons and since Jon was their cousin it was now possible, he’d assumed nothing had really changed.

Words said before the heart tree were still just words in the end. His mother had said she’d return. Robb said he’d return. Neither had. Words are wind.

Or maybe not.

Jon has his chambers and Sansa has hers. That was how it had been since Jon had come home. Rickon had thought it would stay that way. 

Looking back though, this is the first time Rickon has come to Sansa with a bad dream since she and Jon knelt before the heart tree. A worrisome thought occurs to him. Is he to be sent away? Husbands and wives don't want little brothers in their beds, do they? His chin starts to tremble and he hates it. He's supposed to be braver than this. 

Sansa draws near, cups his face in that motherly way which he would usually shrug off. But the dream was horrible and he knows Sansa can make them go away so they cannot hurt him here.

“Did you need me tonight, dearest?”

“Why is _he_ here?” he asks her in a whisper, avoiding the question.

“Because he’s my husband,” she repeats.

“Is he going to stay there?”

He peers over Sansa’s shoulder at Jon lying in the bed. His lips seem to be twitching in amusement. He’d better not make fun of his bad dream tomorrow when they're in training yard. Jon is an excellent swordsman but Rickon can be quick. He'll show him. 

“Yes, he's going to stay.”

“Did he have a bad dream?”

“I did,” Jon says, interrupting. “It was awful. Sansa makes them go away.”

Rickon’s annoyance evaporates. Poor Jon. It's hard to believe a man grown like Jon might be haunted by bad dreams but Rickon knows they all lived through horrible things before they got to come home again.

He scurries over to Sansa’s bed, climbing over Jon to settle in the middle. “Does she sing to you, too?"

Jon's grinning at Sansa. "Sometimes, if I ask sweetly, she will."

"I never have to ask. She just does." Rickon would feel pretty smug about that but then Jon was their big brother once upon a time. It must wound his pride to have to ask. "Do you want to tell us about your dream?” That’s what Sansa always asks him when he comes to her with a bad dream. Sometimes, he does. Sometimes, he doesn’t.

“Not tonight,” Jon answers and Rickon accepts that. It must’ve been a horrible dream. The worse they are, the less he wants to remember it.

“Well, I _suppose_ you can stay, too,” Rickon says, quite generously. Sansa chuckles quietly behind him as his cousin scowls. “Just this once though.” Now, Jon is chuckling, too. He didn't say anything funny. 

“You and I will have a talk about that tomorrow, Rickon,” Jon says in amusement as Sansa lies down on the other side with Rickon in the middle.

“My bed is full tonight but I do not mind," Sansa says, her fingers beginning to drift through Rickon's hair. It's almost scary how quickly he can go from wide awake to sleepy when she does that. 

"May it grow more crowded still.”

Sansa's cheeks turn pink at Jon's words but Rickon can tell she's pleased somehow. He's not entirely sure what Jon meant but he doesn't want to admit it.

Sansa and Jon are staring at each other and smiling like they sometimes do on either side of him. Rickon doesn’t care if they want to lie there smiling. He’s ready to fall back asleep now, here where he is safe. 

Before he closes his eyes, he asks his sister to sing so poor Jon won't have to. She does. 

**Author's Note:**

> Martin has called the Starks the heart of his series and they sure are for me. I hope some of you enjoyed this and thank you for reading 💕💕💕


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